June 1997
A quiet knock interrupted Severus Snape's reverie as he stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace in his private quarters. This late on a Saturday evening, well after curfew, it could only be one of his fellow teachers. He hoped it was Minerva, coming to share a dram of Firewhiskey, but knew it was more probably the headmaster, come to pull the strings on his favorite puppet.
"Come in," Severus called, not bothering to mask the irritation in his voice. He liked a game of chess as much as the next wizard, but abhorred Dumbledore's penchant for using real people as his pawns.
Instead of the stooped, white-bearded headmaster, his white-blond godson was standing stiffly at the door, a Galleon clutched in one hand. "He's summoned us both," Draco announced without preamble.
Severus nodded and placed a marker in his book. "To the Manor? I'll Apparate us both as soon as we get outside the castle wards." Draco knew how to Apparate, but he was unlicensed and underage at least for a few more days, and thus at risk of being Traced. Voldemort's supporters controlled some key departments at the Ministry, but not all.
"No, he wants us at the Three Broomsticks. Immediately," Draco added, holding out the coin in his hand so Severus could read the message.
"A Protean Charm? That's NEWT-level. Did you do that yourself, or is this another service provided to you by Miss Granger?" the professor inquired slyly. His godson had not been forthcoming with him ever since taking the Dark Mark, including on the subject of the curly-haired Gryffindor witch, but Severus hoped that baiting the younger wizard might yield some information.
"I did it myself, without the Mudblood's help," Draco answered curtly.
"Good," Severus praised, referring to the delivery as well as the substance of his godson's response. Glancing at Draco out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the younger wizard's face was impassive and his grey eyes were cold. He looked every inch the ruthless young Death Eater, and Severus honestly could not tell if this was a mask or what his godson really had become. "Do you know why we are being summoned?" he asked, feigning casualness.
Draco shrugged. "I imagine it's because I fixed the Vanishing Cabinet and the Dark Lord wishes to instruct us on the next part of my mission."
With long-legged strides, the two men proceeded in silence to one of the passages leading to Hogsmeade, directly underneath the Three Broomsticks. Far from being a secret, this passageway was known to - and often used by - Argus Filch. In less than a quarter-hour, Severus was climbing a steep set of wooden stairs from the pub's cellar and opening a concealed door into the back bar, Draco at his heels.
His black eyes surveyed the normally cheery pub. Voldemort dominated the center of the shadowy room, sitting on a wooden chair that someone had Transfigured to resemble a throne. Bellatrix Lestrange and the Carrow siblings were perched on the wooden bar, while Fenrir Greyback slouched against the wall in a darkened corner, the werewolf's yellow eyes glowing with an unnatural light. Yaxley, Rowle and Gibbon were seated at a table with several mugs of ale in front of them.
Draco and Severus prostrated themselves on the wooden floor of the Three Broomsticks, disregarding the ingrained dirt and smell of stale, spilled alcohol to show the abject respect their master demanded. Surrounding them, Severus could see the shoes and boots belonging to the other Death Eaters. The back of his neck prickled at being in such a vulnerable position among his fellows.
"You both may rise," the Dark Lord hissed, echoed a beat later by Nagini as the snake slithered around them. With more than two decades of experience in following Voldemort's commands and gauging the snake-faced wizard's moods, Severus stood to his full height immediately. Draco rose to his knees and then, with an impatient gesture from Voldemort, to his feet.
"I am pleased," Voldemort stated, though he looked anything but. "For the first time in quite a long while, a Malfoy has exceeded my expectations."
"It's the Black blood in him," Bellatrix crooned, undulating over from her perch on the bar to run her fingernails down Draco's arm and press a kiss to his cheek. "You've done well, darling, just as I would hope for a nephew of mine."
"I live to serve you, my Lord, as do my parents," Draco said earnestly, utterly ignoring his mad aunt.
"Yes, you do, Draco. Your family would do well to remember that," Voldemort said in a silky-voiced threat.
"Young Draco has managed to fix the Vanishing Cabinet that resides within Hogwarts," the Dark Lord announced. "Borgin has its twin in his shop, so we now have the means to access the castle and take Dumbledore unawares. I called you here tonight to put the final touches on those plans."
Bellatrix beamed at Draco, but the remaining Death Eaters looked skeptical. Severus, realizing he was not the subject of the Dark Lord's interest, effaced himself to stand quietly against the wall.
"Begging your pardon, my lord," Gibbon asked subserviently, "but how do we know the cabinet is fixed properly? That's quite a job for a boy."
"On my orders, Draco tested the Vanishing Cabinet using his familiar, and the creature survived," Voldemort stated. "However, I do wish to know more about how he accomplished this first part of his task."
With no further warning, he turned his red eyes from Gibbon onto Draco and raised his wand. "Legilemens," he hissed.
Draco's eyes widened in alarm and he blindly clutched at a wooden table behind him, seeking support against the Dark Lord's mental onslaught. Severus, through long practice, watched with a blank face, even as he prayed desperately that his godson's Occlumency would be sufficient. Draco could not hope to keep the Dark Lord out, but he might able to deflect his master from anything that would get him tortured or killed.
After a few excruciatingly long minutes, Voldemort withdrew from the boy's mind. "You used Potter's Mudblood to help you fix the cabinet," he stated, red eyes gleaming.
"Yes, my lord," Draco dipped his head. He looked up, his eyes glinting silver. "I used her," he emphasized.
Voldemort nevertheless raised his wand. Severus stepped forward, drawing those vicious red eyes away from Draco. "My lord, the boy was working with Miss Granger on my advice. Dumbledore, in his foolishness, wanted the girl to tutor Draco, and he took advantage of her undeniable intelligence to assist your cause."
"What a delicious irony," Voldemort observed as he lowered his wand.
"Yes, my lord," Draco agreed, his face impassive and posture submissive.
Severus relaxed minutely, hoping his intervention had succeeded, but that hope was premature.
"You wish to use the Mudblood in other ways, don't you, Draco?" the Dark Lord asked in a dangerous voice. "That's what I saw in your mind. You've kissed her dirty mouth and allowed her unclean hands to touch you, have you not?"
"Yes, my lord," Draco confessed, cheeks red with shame.
"Blood traitor!" Bellatrix shrieked. "Cruc-"
Voldemort wandlessly silenced her with a wave of his hand. Glancing around the room, Severus saw the other Death Eaters were listening avidly. Rowle even licked his lips.
"And you have many, many impure thoughts about Potter's Mudblood," Voldemort continued. "You think about tumbling her in any number of broom closets and classrooms around the castle, and you even fantasize about having the filthy creature naked in your bed. Isn't that right, Draco?"
Draco nodded mutely, his face now pale with fear.
Voldemort held his hand up to where his ear should be. "I didn't hear you," he sing-songed.
"Yes, my lord," the blond boy whispered.
Once more, Severus stepped forward. "My lord, he is sixteen. Please believe me when I say that these sorts of prurient thoughts are quite the norm among the hormonal adolescents I am cursed to teach."
The Dark Lord began to laugh, a high-pitched sinister sound. "I would not punish Draco for thinking about a Mudblood in that way. I would not even punish him for acting on those urges. As you know, Severus, I am not averse to my loyal followers keeping pets, providing they are well-trained. I would have allowed you the Evans girl, but she had to go and sacrifice herself for her pestilential son."
"You are most generous, my lord," the sallow-skinned professor said tonelessly.
Voldemort continued, an evil smile stretching his lipless mouth. "I will punish Draco, however, for his misguided self-restraint, for refraining from acting on his base desires because he respects the Mudblood's boundaries and cares about her feelings."
The other Death Eaters, except for Severus and the silenced Bellatrix, laughed like hyenas at the absurdity of respecting the feelings of a Muggleborn witch.
"You see, Draco," Voldemort advised in a sickening parody of a fatherly manner, "attractive little Mudbloods have their uses, on their knees or on their backs. Use Potter's Mudblood - your Mudblood - properly and you may keep her. Otherwise, one or more of my other loyal followers will be most eager to claim her."
Draco swallowed hard and bowed. "Yes, my lord. I understand, my lord. Thank you, my lord."
The Dark Lord waved a negligent hand, simultaneously brushing off the young Death Eater's thanks and releasing the spell that held Bellatrix silent. "Now, Bella, I'll give you five minutes to do your worst."
Bellatrix danced forward, wand raised and with a wicked smile on her face. Severus closed his eyes and then opened them, bracing himself to once again stand silently by while Draco was tortured.
(x) (x) (x)
"Tip your head back and swallow," his godfather ordered, a fearful note hiding under the command. Draco tried to obey, but his head lolled to one side and the potion dribbled out of his mouth. Professor Snape swore softly and then steadied the nape of Draco's neck with one hand, slowly pouring the liquid down his throat.
Grey eyes fluttered open and Draco coughed, absently noting the resulting speckles of blood on his hand. "Where?" he gasped.
"Back at the castle, in my chambers," Professor Snape replied. "We're alone," he added, responding to a second question that Draco was too weak to voice. "Greyback and Rowle did not dare to come into Hogwarts."
"Just through the passageway that connects the castle to the Three Broomsticks," Draco said quietly. The two adult Death Eaters had dragged him along between them, trading obscene fantasies about what they would like to do to Granger, interspersed with graphic suggestions for Draco, as he had drifted in and out of consciousness.
"Drink this one now, followed by this one," the professor directed, handing him one vial that steamed and another that smoked. "There is no shame in having respect and affection for a Muggleborn witch," the dark-haired man said, so softly and wistfully that Draco strained to hear him.
"I will escort you back to the Slytherin dungeons," Professor Snape stated in his normal voice. "Should we see anyone, you were taken ill and came to me for assistance because you were too weak to make it to the infirmary."
Draco nodded and allowed his godfather to support him on the short walk to his dormitory. "I can make it on my own from here," he said, once they were in the Slytherin common room.
"As you will. Try to get some sleep, let your body heal," Professor Snape instructed.
"Yes, sir," Draco acknowledged, despite knowing he would get only a few hours of sleep before his regular meeting with Granger, early on Sunday morning. After what had happened at the Three Broomsticks, he needed to see her. Among other things, he had a strong suspicion as to who the 'Evans girl' was, but Granger could confirm it.
"Draco." Professor Snape stared intently into his eyes, but made no attempt to read his mind. "If it so happens that you need access to the headmaster's office as part of your mission, the current password is 'cockroach cluster.' Use it mindfully."
Draco nodded slowly, fully understanding the message that his godfather was conveying, but not entirely certain that he could be trusted. Professor Snape might be a double agent, or this could be a test of his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He responded with caution. "Thank you, Uncle Sev. I will indeed be mindful."
(x) (x) (x)
The Gryffindor common room was deserted early on the Sunday morning after the championship Quidditch match, with nearly everyone sleeping in after a victory party that had lasted long into the night. No one saw Hermione as she climbed through the portrait hole on her way to meet with Malfoy.
She recognized him walking towards their classroom from the opposite end of the corridor, his blond hair obvious even from a distance. Malfoy saw her at the same moment and paused to hold the classroom door open for her.
"I apologize," he began formally. "I was running late and forgot to stop by the kitchens to pick up our breakfast."
"Don't worry about it," Hermione shrugged, seating herself on top of a desk. She had eaten a pumpkin pasty late last night at the Gryffindor celebration and wasn't hungry. "How're you feeling?"
"Well enough," Malfoy answered, with a polite - if blatant - lie. In the comparatively bright light of the classroom, he looked wretched. He gingerly settled himself on the desk next to hers, as though his entire body ached. Hermione realized that he had only been released from the infirmary yesterday, spending three days there recovering from the aftereffects of the curse Harry had hit him with.
"You look ill," she stated bluntly. "And you're shaking." Hermione held a hand to his forehead. "You're not feverish, but I still think you should be in bed."
"Always so bossy," Malfoy murmured. "And so eager to get me in bed."
"Prat! You know I mean your own bed, to sleep."
He gave her a tiny smile and rested his head against her shoulder. "I know what you meant, and I think you're right, but I didn't want to stand you up."
"You're rather sweet when you aren't feeling well," Hermione observed, stroking his baby-fine fringe back from his forehead as he closed his eyes.
His grey eyes popped open and he glared at her. "Never use that word in connection with me outside this room, witch," he mock-growled. "Malfoys are never sweet."
"Oh, I beg to differ, sweetie," Hermione teased, continuing to pet his hair as he replaced his head on her shoulder.
"Granger, do you know of any Muggleborn witches with the last name of Evans?" Malfoy mumbled against her shirt.
Her hand stilled. "Harry's mum was Lily Evans. Why do you want to know?"
"I heard her mentioned in passing, that's all."
Hermione had no way of judging with his face hidden, buried against her neck, but she suspected that wasn't that whole story. "Is there anything else you want to know about her?"
Draco looked up, his grey eyes a stark contrast to his red-rimmed eyelids. "How did she die? I mean, I know it was an Avada, but wasn't Dumbledore protecting the Potters?"
"He was. He cast a Fidelius Charm to hide them, but their secret keeper gave the location to Voldemort," Hermione replied. Her eyes flickered to his left arm. "You probably know him - Peter Pettigrew?"
"He's a sniveling rat," Draco opined.
"Too right," Hermione agreed. She noticed him shaking again. "Let's get you back to your dormitory," she suggested. "I think you may be coming down with the flu."
Malfoy made no protest, which she took as further evidence that he really was feeling ill. They walked together to the moving staircases, where Hermione hesitated. "Should I walk you down?" she asked. "Just in case you get light-headed or something."
He waved her off. "I'll be fine, Granger. See you Thursday."
"Only if you're feeling better," she said sternly.
"I guarantee I will be." Malfoy gave a quick look around to make sure they were unobserved and planted a soft kiss on her lips over her protest about germs. "I swear it's not anything contagious," he grinned, giving her a farewell wave as he descended on the moving staircase, exiting at the third floor instead of continuing to the dungeons.
(x) (x) (x)
"Albus, one of my descendants is coming to see you," Phineas Nigellus Black informed the current headmaster of Hogwarts. "He's outside your tower now."
"Well, I'm afraid that young Mister Malfoy won't be able to come up without the password," Albus Dumbledore said mildly.
Phineas smirked at him from within the confines of his portrait frame. "Oh, Draco's a clever one. He knows your password."
Indeed, Dumbledore could hear the faint grinding of the moving stone spiral staircase. He suppressed a pained grimace in favor of his trademark wise smile and twinkling eyes. The boy was a wild card, and Dumbledore could only hope this was not going to be another half-baked assassination attempt. The headmaster had already determined Severus needed to kill him in front of as many witnesses as possible to cement the Potions professor's status as Voldemort's most trusted Death Eater.
"Ah, Mister Malfoy! What a pleasant surprise," Dumbledore lied genially. "What brings you to my office at half-eight on a Sunday morning?"
The boy looked haunted, with a sickly pallor and dark circles under his eyes. Dumbledore also noticed that he was shaking slightly, not from fear of his headmaster, but with the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse. With trembling hands, Draco unbuttoned the cuff to his uniform shirt and shoved the sleeve up his arm to reveal the Dark Mark.
"I need your help, sir, for my mother and me."
"You wish to join the Light?" Dumbledore asked, curiously. The Order of the Phoenix could always use another spy.
The Slytherin boy shook his head. "Honestly, no. But I don't want to be a Death Eater any longer. There are things the Dark Lord demands that I don't think I can bring myself to do."
"You are not a killer," Dumbledore agreed.
"I'll have to be, if you won't help me," Draco said, looking pained. "Among other evil things."
The headmaster regarded him thoughtfully over his half-moon spectacles and decided that delay was the best strategy. He had every intention of helping Draco Malfoy at the right moment, but his premature defection would upset Dumbledore's carefully laid plans.
"It's not a decision I can make on my own, Draco. I'll need to consult the other senior members of the Order of the Phoenix, reach a consensus on the best way to proceed to protect you and your mother. Perhaps a Fidelius charm may work, but there's the tricky question of a secret keeper," Dumbledore mused, not perceiving the skepticism that crossed the young wizard's face. "I will contact you within a week."
Draco looked stricken. "But . . . but that may be too late, Professor Dumbledore."
"I think not, my dear boy," the headmaster assured him, with all the hubris of a powerful wizard who had lived for well over a century. "If you haven't managed to kill me all year, I doubt you'll succeed in the next several days."
(x) (x) (x)
Four days later, in the Slytherin dungeons, Draco methodically packed his black dragonhide satchel. His hands remained steady even as his mind raced. One large, chilled bottle of champagne nestled next to a pair of crystal glasses and a small glass flask, the latter wrapped carefully in silk. The champagne had arrived just that morning, sent by his mother at his express request and hidden amongst his birthday presents. His father's birthday greetings had been much less welcome. Lucius had sent a coded communication advising Draco that Death Eaters would raid Hogwarts tonight.
Time had run out. He had tried desperately to think of another way of reconciling the Dark Lord's threats and ultimatums, but to no avail. It was like an arithmancy problem. The numeric inputs were set: three is greater than one; 204 months is longer than six months. The other factors did not lend themselves to calculation: maternal affection and filial respect versus some ephemeral combination of lust and liking. Draco had always excelled with numbers and cold logic, but try as he might, he could come up with no better solution.
Preparations complete, Draco lifted the bag over his shoulder and pivoted to exit the dungeon dormitory, quickly making his way to neutral ground, the fourth floor classroom midway between his dorm and the Gryffindor tower. The door to the classroom was ajar and Granger was already inside, sitting in one of the castle's window seats with her knees pulled up to her chest, watching an evening thunderstorm roll in over the Scottish countryside.
When she didn't look around at his entrance, Draco gave in to a momentary, boyish temptation to sneak up and startle her. He cast a quick silencing charm, soundlessly shut the door, and walked quietly across the room, aided by the rumble of thunder audible even through the stone walls. As he crept closer, he could see his indistinct form reflected against the windowpane, reminding him uneasily of the Foe Glass in his father's study.
His efforts were all for naught. When he was less than a foot away, Granger spun around to face him with a welcoming smile. "'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,'" she quoted.
"Too right," he murmured in agreement, tipping up her chin for a kiss. Before he could deepen it, she broke away and shivered at a particularly loud clap of thunder.
"Scared of a little storm, Miss Gryffindor?" Draco's tone was teasing, but not malicious as it would have been earlier in the year; he rubbed her back in a vaguely comforting way even as he spoke.
Granger shook her head, clearly in no mood to be teased. "I like storms, but I feel like this one is bringing something terrible with it."
For one stomach-clenching moment, Draco wondered if she had somehow guessed. Then he realized that Granger was leaning trustingly into his hand as he drew circles between her shoulder blades. If she knew, or even suspected, she already would have hexed him unconscious and summoned the Aurors. Still, even though there was no chance that his little Muggleborn had even a drop of Seer's blood, her instincts were sharp, and a distraction was warranted.
He dropped into the window seat next to Granger, his thigh grazing hers, and kissed her, hard. She squeaked in surprise at his aggressiveness and Draco smirked inwardly, at having managed to startle her after all. Just as the kiss was getting interesting, Draco felt two surprisingly strong hands on his chest, resolutely pushing him away. Granger wrenched her mouth away from his, gasping, "Business before pleasure, Malfoy."
He rolled his eyes at the brunette witch. "You always say that, Granger."
She merely looked at him in silence, one foot tapping with impatience, until he sighed. "My term project on magical lifts is complete. And Professor Vector told me I received full marks on our last Arithmancy quiz. Now can we get on with snogging?"
"You already finished your term project? That's excellent, Malfoy!" Granger enthused. "You deserve to earn an 'O,' with all the hard work you've put in."
"Oh, I'm sure I'll have least exceeded expectations," Draco said with irony. The Dark Lord had never expected him to succeed in fixing the Vanishing Cabinet.
"Now, can we celebrate?" he asked. Draco reached for his brilliant little witch, to pull her close, but she stood up and danced out of reach.
"I would like to practice my Occlumency before we do anything else," she primly insisted, arms crossed.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Granger, I've taught you everything I can. It's all practice on your own from here."
"What a pity," she smirked. "I had a naughty fantasy about you that I thought you would rather enjoy prying out of my mind. A birthday present from me to you."
He smirked back, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it between her eyes. "Well, if that's the case . . . Legilemens."
She was passionately kissing Viktor Krum, holding the Bulgarian Seeker's jaw between both hands as her tongue delved into his mouth. Krum's large hands were cupping and squeezing her pert arse. Draco found himself growling deep in his throat with jealousy and frustration, unable to push further into her mind, caught up as he was in wondering if this was a real memory or something Granger had concocted.
In the thoughts she was showing him, his witch moaned and began unbuttoning Krum's white Oxford shirt. Gotcha, Granger, Draco thought triumphantly, as he realized the incongruity of a Durmstrang student in a Hogwarts uniform. He pushed harder at her mental barriers, and Krum was replaced by the Weasel King.
Draco's initial flare of jealousy was replaced by amusement. He knew that Granger had never really kissed the ginger. Her fantasy Ron was practically eating her face, showing the same lack of decorum he displayed at mealtime in the Hogwarts dining hall. Draco pictured how he kissed Granger, how she liked it when he lightly nibbled at her lower lip, and the gangly redhead's image in her mind began to shift almost immediately.
Instead of his own white-blond hair, her fantasy Weasley's hair stayed the same shade, but began to lengthen. The amount of freckles on the face stayed the same, but the face - and to Draco's delight, the body - morphed into that of Ginny Weasley. He shifted on the window seat as his cock began to stiffen. Granger presenting thoughts of herself kissing other males was disgusting, but Granger snogging a girl was hot. Unconsciously, he leaned forward for a better view as Granger began unbuttoning the She-Weasel's shirt, curious to see if the redhead's tits were as freckled as her face.
Taking advantage of his distraction, Granger threw him out of her mind and, with a thump, out of the window seat. He blinked up at her from the floor, disoriented, and she began to laugh. "It worked!" she crowed. Before he could get angry, she grabbed his Slytherin tie and pulled him up and in for an open-mouthed kiss. "Now try again," she whispered into his ear. "This time, I won't try to keep you out."
"Legilemens," Draco repeated, for the second time in mere minutes. As promised, Granger let him into her mind immediately. In the fantasy she had granted him access to, she was moaning into his mouth as they kissed, her fingers busily undoing the buttons of his shirt. She ran her hands along his exposed chest, tracing his nipples with a delicate finger, and then repeated the action with the tip of her tongue as her hands trailed lower, one hand gently squeezing his erection while the other worked to unbuckle and unzip him. She shoved his trousers and boxers down to his ankles and dropped to her knees, looking up at him with expectant brown eyes. "Do you want me to suck you?" Granger asked in her imagination and his mind.
"Oh, please, Merlin - yes!" Draco answered aloud.
"Really?" she asked, breaking off their mental connection.
He placed her hand over his groin, so she could appreciate how hard he was. "Really," he confirmed, laughing. "And they call you the brightest witch of our age?"
Slowly, Granger stood up from the window seat. "I've never done this before," she confessed.
His cock twitched at her admission. "I'll tell you what I like," he said hoarsely, standing up to face her as she undid his shirt. He stopped her before she could begin to lick and kiss her way southward.
"Take off your shirt," he told her. Granger had been fully clothed in the mental images she had shown him, but Draco wanted to see her topless while her curly head bobbed on his dick. She unbuttoned her white cotton uniform blouse and shrugged it off, revealing a blue bra with pink flowers.
"That's pretty, but it needs to go," he commented, unclasping the bra and flinging it to the floor. Draco palmed her breasts, the perfect size for his hands, using his thumbs to tease her nipples into hard peaks as she undid his belt and trousers. Then, just like in her fantasy, she knelt before him, her brown eyes trusting as she looked to him for instruction. He cast a quick cushioning charm on the stone floor for her comfort before telling Granger exactly what he wanted her to do.
"Start by swirling your tongue around the head. That's the most sensitive part." Granger did as he directed. "Now lick me, from the base to the tip." Draco's eyes fluttered shut in pleasure at the sensation of her tongue laving his length.
"Open your mouth, take in as much as you can." He opened his eyes and watched under his eyelashes as her hot little mouth partially engulfed his cock. "Now suck me while moving your head up and down."
Granger was a quick study and - as always - eager to learn. It did not take long before she had him leaning back onto the window seat, clutching the cushion to avoid the temptation of fisting his hands in her hair and pulling her deeper onto his cock. Unlike Pansy and a couple of the other Slytherin girls, Granger did have a gag reflex, but she was determined to take him as far back into her throat as she could. With each pass, she managed to go a little bit deeper and suck just a bit harder. "Such a perfect little cocksucker," he moaned, just managing to stay coherent.
He wondered if Granger realized how arousing he found it to have her in this position, and if she truly appreciated the power dynamics of Harry Potter's Muggleborn best friend on her knees, servicing a Death Eater. As she traced an intricate pattern on the underside of his prick and raised her eyes to gauge his reaction, Draco decided the witch knew exactly what she was doing. Inexperienced she might be - though he was far from complaining about the wicked things she was doing with her tongue - but Granger was never stupid.
"Keep doing that and I'm going to cum in your mouth," he said, giving fair warning.
When she redoubled her efforts, he took that as a silent form of consent. Finally giving into temptation, he buried his hands in her wild hair and jerked his hips forward only twice before he climaxed. Granger's eyes widened as he held her in place, watching the muscles in her throat contract as she swallowed. When he released her hair, she sat back on the magically cushioned stone floor, unconsciously swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I take it I don't taste as good as I look?" he asked as he sank down next to her, propping himself against the wall in his happy, satiated state.
"Hardly," she agreed, then backpedaled at how rude that sounded. "It's not terrible, just salty and sort of bitter."
He stroked her unruly hair. "Thank you - that was by far the best birthday present I've gotten."
"You're welcome," she grinned, looking very pleased with herself. "What else could I get for the boy who has everything?"
"Oh, I can think of a few things," Draco smirked. He summoned his bag with a silent Accio, removing the glasses and champagne and uncorking the bottle with a simple but showy spell. He handed the first glass to her. "Estate bottled, from the Malfoy vineyards in Montagne de Reims. Drink up," he urged. "It will take the aftertaste out of your mouth."
"You brought champagne? What are we celebrating?" Granger asked as she took a delicate sip of the bubbly.
"My birthday, successful completion of our term projects, an unexpectedly brilliant partnership with my tutor in Arithmancy," Draco shrugged. "Take your pick."
"I like the last," Granger smiled, taking a larger sip. "This is really nice."
Draco clinked his glass against hers with a predatory smile, taking only a minute sip for himself. Granger's glass was half-empty, and there was an enticing flush to her cheeks as the champagne began to take effect. "Or maybe I'm just plying you with champagne in hopes of getting into your knickers," Draco winked, even though he was very much in earnest.
"Er, I probably should find my shirt," she said with embarrassment at her half-naked state.
"Why bother?" Draco asked lazily. "I'll just strip it off you again."
Her blush deepened. "Would you like to take anything else off?" she asked, softly.
"Everything," he answered, pushing her back so she was lying on the floor. He started with her shoes and socks, stroking and massaging her feet and ankles and moving up her calves.
"That feels lovely," she murmured, her eyes half-closed.
"I want to make you feel good," Draco said with sincerity. "Just like you did for me." He took off his own shirt and lay next to her, kissing as their bare chests rubbed together. From the hardness of her nipples and the sounds she made as he kissed his way down her neck to her collarbone, he could tell Granger was highly aroused. When he reached around her waist to unbutton her uniform skirt, she instinctively raised her hips, grinding against his rapidly returning erection and making it easier for him to slide the skirt down her legs. To distract her, he suckled and nipped at her breasts as he hooked his fingers into the sides of her cotton bikini knickers. Granger's brown eyes shot open in alarm.
"May I?" he asked in a soft voice.
With obvious trepidation, she nodded. Draco dragged her knickers down and off before she could change her mind. With one hand on each toned thigh, he spread her legs. "So pretty and pink," he said, looking up from between her legs to her flushed face. Granger looked torn between arousal and embarrassment, wanton and innocent at the same time.
Draco swirled two fingers in his nearly full champagne flute. "Suck them," he directed, bringing them to Granger's lips. He repeated the process. "Again."
Slowly, he inserted one finger, slick with her own saliva, between Granger's legs, hissing in satisfaction as she whimpered. "You are so fucking tight," he told her, working his finger through her delicious folds. "And wet." When her knees came up and apart, opening her wider, he added the second finger, scissoring them for her pleasure and to ready her virginal cunt for a thorough fucking.
Granger was bucking into his hand. "Please, please, Malfoy," she panted. "I want - I need more." Her begging was delicious.
"More, Granger? Are you sure?" he teased, beginning to circle her with his thumb.
Her hips moved faster and her eyes were again squeezed shut. "Yes, yes, yes," she chanted. "Please, Draco!"
He waited until she had just begun convulsing around his fingers before abruptly withdrawing them. Granger opened her eyes - the golden flecks more prominent than usual - and glared at him in pure outrage. "Malfoy!"
Then her eyes widened, realizing he had pushed his boxers down and his newly-freed cock was positioned at her entrance.
"You did want more, didn't you?" Draco asked, with a devilish look on his face. She stared into his eyes, trying to read him, but she wasn't a Legilemens. "Please, let me," he begged.
After only a few seconds - seconds that nonetheless stretched to an eternity for Draco - Granger slowly nodded her consent.
(x) (x) (x)
Hermione looked up into Malfoy's opaque silver eyes. She had not planned on things going quite this far, and was hard-pressed to explain how she had found herself in this deliciously compromising position, naked and spread out beneath him, with her entire body thrumming with desire. She had been begging him for more, but had the sudden thought that this was too much.
"Please, let me," he begged, and the raw urgency in his voice decided her. She trusted him, they had been working towards this moment the entire school year, and Hermione knew that Malfoy would make her first time a memorable one. Staring into his eyes, she nodded. An overjoyed look flashed across his face, mixed with relief.
Malfoy pushed into her immediately, leaving no time for second thoughts. He paused as the tip of his cock reached her hymen, a strange sensation that made Hermione gasp. Then he gripped her hips and thrust forward sharply, breaking the barrier and pulling a strangled cry from between her lips. With another hard thrust, he was fully seated within her.
From the open-mouthed look of ecstasy on his face, Hermione could tell Malfoy was reveling in the feel of her tight walls against the length of his cock. It didn't seem fair that something that so obviously felt brilliant for him felt alien and painful for her. From dormitory gossip, she had known that the first time could hurt, but not like this. The sharp, stabbing pain of Malfoy's initial penetration mixed with the uncomfortable sensation that she was being stretched out to the point of tearing, making her breathe in short, shallow pants as she desperately tried to adjust.
"Hey, don't cry," Malfoy said, using his thumb to wipe away tears she had not known were in her eyes. "That's not what brave Gryffindors are supposed to do." Mercifully, he withdrew partway out of body, providing welcome relief. "Shift your hips until you find an angle that feels good for you," he instructed. Hermione was skeptical that being impaled by a rigid rod of flesh in her most sensitive bits could feel good, until she moved in a way that ignited sparks of pleasure.
"Oh," she gasped at the unexpected feeling.
"Move as much or as little as you like," Malfoy suggested, with a smug smile at her response. "I'm only about halfway in, but you can take more when you're ready."
Hermione thought that half his length was more than enough for her as she began to slowly rock her hips, seeking to regain that elusive sensation of pleasure she had felt when writhing on Malfoy's long fingers. He held the lower half of his body still, allowing her to set the pace while he occupied himself in using his mouth and hands to lavish her breasts with attention.
As she moved, the sharp pain between her legs faded to a dull ache, one that she found was best relieved by rubbing against Malfoy's hardness. Once found her rhythm, her initial discomfort with his size was replaced by an instinctive desire to be filled up completely. Within minutes, Hermione had taken his full length and was meeting him thrust for thrust, while begging him for more. "Harder, please. Please, Draco! Please fuck me harder!"
He complied with enthusiasm, ramming into her with speed and intensity until she came, crying out his name. Malfoy cut off her cries by crashing his lips onto hers and kissing her roughly, uncaring that she tasted like him and expensive champagne. Unlike earlier, when he had abruptly cut short her pleasure by removing his fingers, Malfoy stayed deep within her as she rode out her orgasm, pulsing his cock inside her to extend the experience for her.
"Gods, Draco! That was amazing!" Hermione thanked him, unable to control a silly, sappy grin from spreading across her face. "People say sex is like flying, and now I know why you like flying so much."
He smirked, seeming to be amused by her babbling. "As much as I like flying, I like fucking you better," he said in a husky voice, grey eyes dark with lust.
Her grin broadened and she wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him, wisely using actions instead of words to express just how much she cared about the blond boy poised above her.
(x) (x) (x)
"As much as I like flying, I like fucking you better," he said, a true statement that made Granger beam. He stared down at her luminous golden eyes and untamable hair, trying to capture the image in his memory. When she came, she was beautiful.
"Now it's my turn, pet," he murmured, hoping she would not notice the regret lurking in his eyes.
He hoisted her legs over his shoulders, folding her body nearly in half. Granger's eyes widened at the new position, understandably nervous. He now had complete control over the pace and depth of penetration. Draco pushed in slowly until he bottomed out, bumping up against her cervix with the tip of his cock.
"It's too deep," she moaned.
"You can take it," Draco insisted, groaning in pleasure. He grabbed her hands and placed them onto his chest. "Use your claws, kitten, if it feels too intense."
He barely felt her scratching him as he thrust deeply in and out, seeking to reach a climax that was approaching with the speed of the Hogwarts Express. And despite Granger's whimpered protests that it was too much, that it hurt, Draco was hellbent on bringing her over the edge with him. With a seeking thumb, he found the hidden spot between her folds that made her clench around him.
"Mine. Mine. Mine." Each time, Draco punctuated the word with a hard snap of his hips and a swipe of his thumb on the sensitive nub between her legs. On the third repetition, he felt her convulsing around him as she screamed without words.
"Fuck, yeah. Fucking come for me, Mudblood," he moaned in her ear, savoring the feeling and thrusting deeper. "My Mudblood. All mine," were his last coherent words before he climaxed with a loud cry and collapsed over her smaller body.
"Malfoy, get off," Granger hissed, two hands pushing ineffectually at his chest.
"Already did," he muttered, rolling over and taking her with him. Like a rag doll, he arranged her body, her back held to his front. Just lying here like this, with his body curled around Granger's smaller form, was oddly comforting. It would be nice to drift off to sleep, even on the floor in a dusty old classroom, so long as he had his witch in his arms. But he had an appointment with his aunt and fellow Death Eaters at the Room of Requirement and could not afford to be late. And he needed to keep his wits about him for the most important part of his evening with Granger.
To his surprise, she allowed him to hold her for a few minutes. His racing heart was almost back to normal when she rolled over in his arms, propped up on one elbow to face him. "Draco?"
He raised an eyebrow at how readily she had abandoned use of his surname after being shagged. "Yes, Granger?"
Her dark eyes looked troubled. "You called me a Mudblood. Just now. You haven't done that all year, but you just said said it. Twice."
"Did I?" he asked lazily. "What of it?"
"It's a slur, Draco," she explained earnestly. "It's a vicious, vile, racist term."
Draco stood and stretched, showing her the brand on his left arm. "I am a vicious, vile racist, Granger. And you are a Mudblood." He laughed at her, meanly. "I certainly have called you a Mudblood any number of times this year. Perhaps not to your face - I have been on rather good behavior while trying to get into your knickers," he drawled.
Granger looked like he had slapped her. Draco prudently put some distance between them before she could respond in kind, with an actual, physical blow.
"I am a Muggleborn witch," she declared with vehemence. "Not a Mudblood. If you weren't so blinded by Voldemort's stupid ideology, you'd admit my blood is just as red as yours." She stared pointedly between his legs, where some of her blood was smeared and drying.
"Don't be stupid, Granger," he said roughly, pointing his wand at himself and performing a quick Scourgify. "It doesn't suit you. It's not a question of color - it's about purity. And you are decidedly impure. Filthy, even." Draco leered at her as he pulled on his boxers and trousers, prudently keeping his wand at the ready in case she tried to hex or hit him.
"Why did you shag me, then, if I'm so filthy?" she demanded with a sneer, taking to her feet with a wince. She grabbed a shirt - his, he noted - and used it to cover her nakedness. "Aren't you scared your master will punish you for sullying yourself with the likes of me?"
Her voice was thick with sarcasm rather than tears, and Draco infinitely preferred it that way. He still felt terrible that he had made her cry from pain earlier when he took her virginity, though he had made it good for her in the end. Now, he decided to provoke her further, to make her even angrier.
"The Dark Lord has no objection to Mudbloods in their rightful position, on their knees or on their backs," he parroted, smirking. "You've amply demonstrated your talents in both positions. I suspect he will pleased that I've shown you your proper place."
"Gods, you are disgusting, Malfoy! I can't wait until this is all over and you're locked up in Azkaban with all of the other psychotic Death Eaters," she viciously wished.
"Don't be naive, Granger," he warned her in a cold voice. "Dumbledore is going to die, and without him, your precious Potter doesn't have a prayer. The Dark Lord will win and rule over our world."
Granger shook her head, but he could see the fear behind her eyes. She knew the Light side was overmatched.
"I'll look after you when that happens, pet," Draco promised. "You'll find that I take very good care of my possessions."
"I'm a person, not a possession," she snapped. "And I can take care of myself." Granger made a grab for her bag - and her wand - but he got there first.
"I need my wand, Malfoy," she protested. "I promise I won't hex you, but I need to cast a contraceptive charm."
"Do Gryffindors actually fall for tricks like that?" Draco asked rhetorically. One would have to be as thick as a concussed troll to give Granger her wand back in this situation. Instead, he stretched to place it on the top edge of a chalkboard, well above her reach, before reaching into his own satchel. He handed her the glass vial he had so carefully packed earlier in the evening. "Drink this. It's a very strong contraceptive potion. I don't want a half-blood bastard as a result of this encounter any more than you do."
"Merlin forbid that you ever reproduce," Granger said with feeling. She grabbed the vial from him and went to drink the cherry-red potion, just as he hoped. Then she stopped and sniffed it, swirling the potion and eying the hints of purple with suspicion. "This isn't just contraceptive potion," she accused, shoving the vial back in his hands. "I am not drinking this, Malfoy."
Draco took it back before she could fling it at him. "I've added a dose of Dreamless Sleep," he acknowledged, "but there's nothing harmful. I can't have you running off to Potter or a teacher and buggering everything up. You'll be safer if you're asleep here, rather than trying to duel Death Eaters twice your age," he reasoned with her, holding out the potion.
She made no move to take it, a stubborn set to her jaw. "If you're planning something, I need to tell Harry. You won't get away with this, Malfoy."
He should have known that appealing to her non-existent sense of self-preservation would not work. Perhaps he would have better luck with a more direct threat. Draco snatched his shirt away, leaving Granger exposed and vulnerable.
"You'll drink it, even if I have to tackle you and force it down your throat. I won't answer for the consequences if you're naked and thrashing underneath me," he threatened. "Of course, if you want another go, you only need to ask," he added with a nasty smile. Inwardly, he hoped she would drink it and not call his bluff.
Granger looked defiant as he raked her body with eyes. "You are vile, Malfoy. I can't believe I was so stupid as to ever trust you, to believe you were a decent person despite the Dark Mark on your arm."
Draco let her vent without comment, because she was holding out her hand for the potion in capitulation. He placed the vial in her palm, closing her fingers over it.
She pulled her hand away in disgust. "I loathe you, and if I never speak to you again, it will be too soon." Still, she drank it.
"Make sure that you swallow it all, Granger. You're good at that," he taunted. She gave him a hateful look and a two-fingered salute before curling herself up on the floor in a protective little ball.
"Oh, I forgot - you're not speaking to me. How mature!" mocked Malfoy. "Actually, you can give me the silent treatment as long as you'd like, provided you open your swotty little mouth for other purposes. Though I'm sure I could have you screaming my name again if I tried, Granger."
She was still giving him a basilisk glare from her prone position on the floor, but struggling to keep her eyes open. He watched her carefully as he redressed and packed up his things until he was almost certain she had fallen asleep. Draco nudged her ribs with the tip of his dragonhide loafers, eliciting no reaction. He bent down to whisper in her ear. "Bye, Mudblood. You know what they say - you'll never forget your first."
She did not even twitch. He straightened, his gaze caught by blood staining the insides of her thighs. With a grimace, Draco tossed his school robes over her and left the room without a backward glance.
(x) (x) (x)
Hermione waited until she heard the soft snick of the lock and Malfoy's footsteps receding down the hallway. Then she counted to sixty, or tried to, skipping some numbers and repeating others in her drugged state, before she opened her mouth. The potion that she had pretended to choke down under his watchful eye dribbled onto the stone floor.
Hermione thanked Merlin that her parents were dentists. Due to their insistence on regular childhood dental exams, she had perfected the technique of closing off her throat to avoid swallowing fluoride and toothpaste. It worked equally well on potions. Still, enough Dreamless Sleep had trickled down her throat that she fell forward to her hands and knees when she tried to stagger to her feet. Her vision was blurred, and it was so tempting to rest her cheek against the stone floor and let sleep overtake her.
She stuck two fingers into her mouth and down her throat, trying without success to vomit. When that did not work, she forced herself to think back on everything that Malfoy had done to her. Hermione focused on the gagging feeling when his penis had been too deep in her throat and the revolting fact that she had willingly swallowed his semen. That was enough to make her retch, heaving the liquid contents of her stomach onto the classroom floor.
With her head somewhat clearer, she attempted to wandlessly summon her wand. "Accio," she said repeatedly, to no effect. Frustrated, and worried what might be going on in the castle while she was stuck here without a wand, Hermione screamed it. Her wand did not fly neatly into her hand, but it rolled enough to clatter down from its perch atop the chalkboard. "Oh, thank Merlin!" she breathed in gratitude, crawling across the classroom floor to retrieve her wand.
Hermione cast an Ennervate on herself, negating the soporific effects of the Dreamless Sleep. She followed that with three of the four contraceptive charms she knew. The fourth was a morning-after charm and she would cast it on herself tomorrow, assuming she survived the night. Hermione Scourgified herself, more than once, ignoring the spell's sting on sensitive flesh, and then redressed, eager to get Malfoy's robes off of her. They smelt like him. Lastly, she Vanished the mess she had vomited up and Disillusioned herself for the walk up three floors to Gryffindor tower.
Hermione left the classroom, walking as quickly as her sore and stretched muscles would allow. If anything that came out of Malfoy's mouth could be believed, there were going to be Death Eaters in the castle tonight. She had to go and warn Harry.